


Happy

by seltzerboy



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 14:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15608538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seltzerboy/pseuds/seltzerboy
Summary: Eddie sees something that that triggers memories of that summer, the summer of ‘58.





	Happy

**Author's Note:**

> Just an FYI: this is based mostly off of the original book, but it will still make sense to you if you’ve only seen the movie! Feel free to comment too, feedback is always appreciated :)

1  
Eddie was happy. 

At sixteen years old, he was finally happy. He had a great group of friends, a job down at Freese’s working the register, and his asthma barely acted up anymore. Plus, he had a boyfriend. A boyfriend! So what if he couldn’t tell anyone besides the Losers? He was enjoying life, finally, and he only got occasional flashbacks from that summer of his childhood. 

He knew that they had done something, something incredible, all seven of them together. Something that would probably never be done again in all of time. He remembered being scared, more than anything. The fear that had taken hold of him that whole summer. But he also remembered the laughter. They had laughed so much that summer, about everything. Hiding away in the barrens, laughing hysterically together despite the fear they all felt deep in their bellies. And a promise. He could recall they had all made a promise, standing together and feeling the power of some Other coursing through all seven of them. But a promise to do what? That he couldn’t figure out. It had been a summer to remember, which he had subsequently forgotten most of. 

But none of that mattered anymore, because he was on his way to his boyfriends house, a phrase which he would never get tired of thinking. He walked with a small skip in his step, crossing from Palmer Lane to Jackson Street, towards the Tozier residence. His converse hitting the puddles on the pavement and sending sprays of water all around. He had a smile on his face and his heart was full. Nothing could ruin this mood. 

As he rounded the corner of Jackson and Witcham, heading south, he spotted something that made him stop dead in his tracks. All of his thoughts and emotions were immediately replaced by only one: fear. Floating up the street, bobbing along right over the storm drain where Eddie knew something terrible had happened, was a bright red balloon. Its white string dragged along the sidewalk, the balloon only about 3 feet off the ground. Eddie could feel his heartbeat in every part of his body, could suddenly taste something horrible in his mouth, something like sewage and blood and dirty, dirty water. His right arm twinged painfully, and all of a sudden it brought everything back. It was like he was watching a movie rewind after finishing it, he could see everything that had happened that summer, everything that had led them to those sewers, that giant, never ending room with the light coming from its walls. And that spider. It’s true form, or at least the form truest to what they could comprehend. He could remember all of the murders, starting with Georgie Denbrough. He could recall Eddie Corcoran, Betty Rispom, even Patrick Hockstetter. He remembered the leper, the mummy, the blood covering the walls of Beverly’s bathroom. He remembered that day Mike had brought his dads photo album to the barrens, when they had all seen It, together. He remembered the dead kids in the standpipe, the bird. The pure terror which seemed to have been seeping through those Morlock Holes, infiltrating Derry and corrupting everyone. At least, every adult. His eyes burned, and he swore he could smell smoke, a thick, burning smoke that left his throat dry and made him want to yell for _Bill, somebody, I can’t breath in here I want out!_

It was all so much all at once, and he could no longer just stand there in the middle of the street, staring at this fucking thing which had sucked all of the happiness out of him so fast, the thing that reminded him of the most evil being he would ever encounter. So he ran. He took off, sprinting down the street, and if anyone like Harold Gardener had seen him from inside his house, he would have thought he looked insane, running from a storm drain like that. 

2  
He didn’t stop running until he made it to Richies house, never stopping to look behind him or anything. He flew up to the front door, and began pounding with both his fists while wheezing heavily. He knew neither Wentworth or Maggie Tozier were home, they were both out of town visiting Richies aunt who had just been recently diagnosed with some sort of disease that Eddie couldn’t remember at the moment. All he could think about was getting Richie to _Open the fucking door, please for the love of God! _Tears had begun to form in Eddies eyes, both from the fear that he felt and the wind from running so fast. And now they fell, coming out in large beads and wetting his cheeks. He was feeling so weak suddenly, like he could pass out at any second. He just needed his boyfriend to answer the door already.__

____

__

Finally, he could hear the locks on the inside start to turn, the rattle of the chain as Richie pulled it off the track, and then the door opened. 

“Hiya, Eds! How’s it cookin’ good looki-“ Richie began, before his eyes fell on Eddies tear stained face and awful, pained expression. 

“I. . . I saw something, Rich,” Eddie said, his voice cracking towards the end. Richie immediately pulled Eddie into the house, kicking the door shut with his foot. 

He held Eddies shaking shoulders in both hands, looking into his eyes. 

“You saw something?” He asked, his tone quiet but strong. He knew something meant bad news. Eddie nodded, swallowing back a sob and trying to keep his eyes steady on Richies’. 

“By the storm drain. It was a balloon, Rich, a fucking balloon.” Richies eyes widened, as if he were seeing something that he just couldn’t believe. He looked back down at Eddie. 

“A red one?” Eddie nodded again. “Fuck.” Richie whispered, because suddenly he remembered too. All of it. 

He let go of Eddies shoulders, walking around him towards the kitchen. He reached for the pack of camels on the counter, taking one out and lighting it quickly. He smoked it with a shaking hand, the other pushing his long, dark hair away from his eyes, which were wide behind his thick glasses. Eddie followed him as he moved out towards the back porch, sitting down on the wooden railing overlooking his backyard. 

“What do we do, Rich?” he asked in a very small voice. His face was still glistening with dried tears, and more were forming as he spoke. Richie put out his cigarette on the railing, dropping it on the floor. He stood up and walked over to Eddie. 

“I don’t know, Eds,” he said, as he used his shirt sleeve to wipe off Eddies cheeks. He held the smaller boys face in both hands, looking into his eyes. “But it’ll be okay. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, alright?” Eddie took a deep, wheezing breath, but nodded, trying to give a shaky smile. 

“Hang on a sec,” Richie said then, going back into the house. Eddie stood on the porch, holding his arms tightly around himself. Richie came back only a minute later with an inhaler in his hand. 

“You kept that?” He asked, looking from the small plastic tube to Richies face. He had a small smile on his features. 

“Of course I did, I always have.” He brought the inhaler up to Eddies mouth, and pushed the cartridge down. It puffed out the water/medicine/whatever it was that made Eddie feel better when he really needed it. Eddie took a deep, grateful breath. 

“Thanks,” he said standing on the tips of his toes to wrap his arms around Richies neck in a hug. Richie returned it by wrapping his arms around Eddies waist, practically picking the shorter boy up off the ground. He pressed a kiss to the soft hair on his boys head, before setting him down again. 

“Do you think we should call Bill?” Eddie asked, because of course they’d call Bill if anything went wrong. He was Bill. Their fearless leader, the one who had stopped this thing before. But Richie wanted to make sure there was really something to call about. He had to make sure, before they caused a panic. They had to be sure. 

“Can you show me where you saw it?” Richies voice was calm, sure, strong. He couldn’t freak out, for Eddies sake. 

“What?” Eddies eyes widened, his face going very pale. 

“Just show me, maybe you thought you saw something, but it was just your mind playing tricks on you.” Richie took one of Eddies small hands in his own. “I’ll be with you, we just have to look, Eds,”. 

Eddie sighed, eyes cast down. 

“Don’t call me that,” he said finally, and looked up to meet Richies eyes. He gave a small smile, and it was all Richie needed. 

The two boys left the house, heading up the street towards the place where everything had started the fall before that summer. They could both remember it now: Georgie’s death. Only six years old, left to bleed out on the street by Mr. Bob Gray, also known as Pennywise, also known as _You Whoremaster!._

They approached the storm drain, walking slowly and staying on the far side of the street. Eddie couldn’t bare to look, hiding his face against Richies chest, keeping his eyes shut. 

“Do you see it?” He asked, shaking. 

“Oh my god,” Richie said, his voice becoming lighter, sounding relieved. 

“What?” Eddie was still too scared to look. 

“We’ve got nothing to worry about,” Richie took Eddie by the shoulders, pointing across the street to their left. There were about 12 little kids wearing birthday hats, sitting at a long table in the grass, eating pieces of cake. Parents were sitting in lawn chairs, drinking lemonade from glasses. There were balloons tied to the chairs and the table periodically. Lots of red ones. But other colors, too. 

Eddie just stared at the party, his eyes wide, looking around at the whole scene. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten so scared because of a children’s party balloon. 

“Oh,” he said quietly. He felt embarrassed for causing such a scene, for freaking out like that. Richie probably thought he was such a baby, now. He turned back, beginning to walk back down the street. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest. 

Richie stood there looking confused for a second, then jogged to catch up with the smaller boy. 

“Hey, hey, Eds, what’s wrong? There’s nothing there, we’ve got nothing to worry about!” He said in a cheery voice, grabbing at Eddies shoulders to turn him around. Eddie shook his hand off, his arms still crossed. He stopped moving, looking at Richie. 

“I know, Rich,” he said, his jaw clenched hard. 

“Then what’s the problem? I don’t get it?” Richie didn’t try to touch Eddie again, he just put one hand on his hip, the other going to comb through his hair. 

“The problem is that I’m such a fucking baby, I can’t see a goddamn balloon without freaking out and having a fucking panic attack!” Eddie was raising his voice now, looking Richie in the face. His eyes were dark and upset. Richie moved towards him.

“What? No Eds, it’s not your fault. We all get scared, none of us have recovered from that summer,” he said, trying to sound comforting. 

“None of the other Losers would have run to their boyfriends sobbing over a fucking birthday balloon, Rich! God, I’m such a fucking pussy!” He exclaimed, turning back around towards the house. 

Richie followed him, and grabbed his arm tightly now. He turned him back around, seeing the hurt look in his boyfriends eyes. 

“Eddie listen to me, it’s not you’re fault,” he placed a hand on the side of the shorter boys face. Eddie looked around nervously, watching to see if there were any passerby’s who would see this small display of affection. Richie sighed, dropping his hand. “You’re not a pussy, I swear,” Eddie just rolled his eyes, still frowning. “You’re about as much of a pussy as my dick is.” This caused Eddie to giggle, despite his best efforts to stay upset. “There’s my Eds,” Richie said, pinching his cheek lightly. Eddie looked into his eyes, letting out a deep breath. 

“Thanks, Rich.” He went to wrap his arms around the taller boys neck, but stopped himself when he remembered they were still standing in the middle of the street. Richie grabbed his hand, pulling him back towards his house. 

“Come on,” Richie said. Eddie let out a another small laugh, that happiness from before coming back to him in small doses. 

3  
They were on Richies bed, both of their shirts off, Eddie pinned under Richie. They were kissing, and Eddie was panting softly into Richies mouth. He whined when Richie bit down lightly on his bottom lip. 

“Rich. . . Rich,” he said, sounding breathless. Richie just grinned, kissing his boy deeply before sitting up, his knees on either side of Eddies hips. His placed his hands on the smaller boys waist, rubbing small circles against his skin with his thumbs. 

“What is it, love?” Eddie blushed at the pet name. 

“Just, um,” he paused, thinking of the right words, “thank you again, for making me feel better.” He wasn’t looking at Richies eyes, instead focusing on the curve of Richies neck, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I know I can probably be super annoying sometimes, with how I freak out, but, thank you.” He finally met Richies eyes, and he could see only love in them. 

“Oh, baby,” Richie said, causing a dark blush to erupt across Eddies face. “You’re never annoying, never ever,” he leaned down to kiss along the smaller boys stomach, up to his chest, and up his jaw. “I love you so much, Eds, there’s no way I could ever do anything but help you,” Richie ended by kissing Eddies mouth, again, so soft and gentle, as if he was handling the most precious thing in the world. 

“I love you too, Rich,” Eddie sighed, a small smile on his face. Now Richie lay down next to him, pulling Eddie into his arms. He cradled the boys head against his chest, and pressed a kiss to the top. Eddie curled up closer, loving the way his stomach fluttered every time Richie held him like this. The storm drain, the clown, that summer, all of it was so far from his mind, already forgotten, sailing away like a paper boat which, many years before, had somehow made it out of Derry and all the way to the ocean, where it sailed forever and ever. 

At least, that’s what he liked to picture in his mind. 

He was sixteen years old. He was happy.


End file.
